


Aventurescence

by Rubynye



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bondage, F/M, Genderswap, Kink Meme, Light Bondage, Mild Kink, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beryl asks Bofur three questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aventurescence

"Bofur," asked Beryl of her beloved bedmate, "May I ask you a question?" She lay tucked into the crook of his arm, his firm hairy side snug to her front.

There was a brief moment, while he lay still and she wondered if she'd left it too long, if he'd gone to sleep; then he opened one twinkling dark eye as he murmured, "Didn't you just?"

Beryl groaned, rolling her eyes, but when Bofur chuckled and squeezed her, her back flexed pliantly in his hold. "I'll even grant another," he said cheerily as he lifted her to his chest, and even as she squirmed into place atop him she rolled her eyes again.

Then she looked down, into Bofur's shining eyes, upon his dimpled smile and all his soft unbraided hair spread out across the pillow, his claw earring glinting up from the dark waves. For a moment her voice caught in her throat, with the pleasure of looking at him, with the delight of resting upon his warm solidity as his broad hands rested upon her back, but also because what she intended to ask wasn't precisely ladylike.

But then, Beryl considered as she kissed Bofur, his lips tender and his mustache tingling her cheeks, she was hardly ladylike anymore. Ladies didn't run off from home in breeches and without handkerchiefs, didn't set out into the wilderness with a wizard and thirteen Dwarves, didn't kill monstrous spiders, name or wear swords, riddle with ghouls and dragons, or befriend and defy a king. A lady didn't take a sturdy cheery toymaker into her bed without any plan of marriage, didn't agree aloud that they would stay lovers just so as long as it pleased them both. Amidst their unhurried kiss Bofur murmured happily to Beryl and she sighed delightedly back, reminding herself that she had grown entirely out of being ladylike, into being an adventuress.

In that spirit, she lifted her head and drew breath, but Bofur said dreamily, "A question such as that, please ask me anytime!" Beryl giggled before she could help it, riding his laugh with their bellies pressed warmly together, chortling like a tween instead of the mid-aged lady she was.

Not lady, she corrected herself in thought. _Adventuress_. "That actually wasn't my question," she babbled as his eyes crinkled at her, caught herself and took another breath. "I should say, up front, I mean, I want you to know that this is not a complaint." Except that it rather was. Beryl waited, but Bofur just listened, his fingers gently tapping her back, his brow unfurrowed. "It's just that, you're so strong and sturdy, and… when we're in bed I can feel you holding yourself back." He was lovely, really, just… so gentle, she could feel him trembling with the effort of being gentle, thinking when he shouldn't even be able to.

Now his brow furrowed, and he touched her cheek as lightly as a falling feather. "I wouldn't hurt my lass," he told her in a startling flash of solemnity.

"Indeed, you wouldn't." Beryl laid her little hand on Bofur's broad one, shifting it down her cheek so she might kiss his wrist over his surging pulse. "You won't." Another kiss, with a measured hint of teeth, and his eyes flared. "I want to feel your strength, Bofur. I want you to let yourself loose on me."

Bofur shuttered his eyes, lids drawn down so all she could see was a gleam through his thick lashes, and slid his hand back up into her hair, twining curls around his fingers while Beryl waited and fought off nervousness. After a few endless moments, he looked up at her again. "I do enjoy you, Beryl."

"And I you." Beryl slid her thigh forward, sinking her knee between his, pressing up gently on his eggs and prick. "And I can tell." His eyelashes flickered, his grin began to unfurl. "But I'm truly not as delicate as all that."

"I know so, pretty burglar." Bofur looked up through his lashes now, and pinched her ear tip firmly, sending quiversome sparks down her nerves as his prick twitched in interest against her thigh. "But if I truly let go, what's to hold me back if need be?"

Shutting her eyes, Beryl thought hard despite all of Bofur she could feel, and inspiration came in the form of her dwarven clothes now piled on the floor in most un-Bagginslike disorder. "Here," she said as she leaned over, but the bed was of course rather high, so she had to slide off Bofur entirely to reach the floor, and he decided the best aid he might lend was to begin squeezing her bottom with both hands. "Oh, very helpful," Beryl huffed, draped trembling over the bed's edge, straining towards her clothes as Bofur kneaded her flesh.

"Always," he agreed cheekily, but just then she reached the sash, shouting wordless triumph as she grasped it. Tucking his hands round her waist, Bofur hauled her back up as if she weighed hardly anything. "What's that, your girdle?"

"Your restraint," she answered, kneeling beside his chest and leaning over him to draw the length of bright cloth through the bed frame slats. This pose dangled her bosom above Bofur's face, with predictably delightful results; she couldn't help sighing with the pleasure of his expressive mouth upon her breast, his broad fingers cradling the other, but she bit her lip and concentrated against the brush of his beard and the warmth of his lips as she pressed his free hand down with their fingers interlaced, looped half the sash round his wrist and knotted it.

Then Beryl drew in a great breath, stiffening her spine, and pulled herself back from Bofur. He pouted at her like a bereft babe, and she smiled helplessly, but shook her head. "I've bound your arm," she pointed out, and bit her cheek against a giggle at his round-eyed glance at her handiwork. "If you're willing, I'll do the other, and then, well, that'll hold you, so you won't have to hold yourself. If you're willing."

Bofur grinned, eyes crinkling and dimples dimpling, and flourished his other hand at her more cheekily than any mere words could have managed. Beryl gave in to laughing, and to his roving lips, and to moaning as he sucked kisses over her skin, but with shaking fingers she lifted his hand to kiss his broad palm, then tucked the other end of the sash around it in a knot tight enough to hold but not to hurt.

"There," she said at last. "Try that, truly, no tomfoolery." Bofur tugged, his broad smile fading into confusion, and then into a smaller smile tinged with awe as he looked up at her. All hers, laid before her, the distance between her little strength and his bridged with a colorful sash. Heat ran beneath Beryl's skin, her thighs trembled as she swung her leg over Bofur's hips to straddle him. She'd learned the meaning of _wonder_ this half year, seen high beauty and expansive nobility, but no sight was more wondrous than Bofur looking up at her as she settled upon him, his prick at full attention and all of him at her will.

It was nearly enough to carry her wits clean away, if she didn't take a steadying breath and keep hold of them. "Oh, look at you," she murmured, and her voice hardly sounded hers, deep and queenly in her ears. "My handsome swain." She wrapped her fingers round his prick straining up before her, and felt the tremble run through Bofur's whole frame, his thighs shuddering between hers, his chest rising and falling like a bellows.

"Look at you!" he croaked in return, throat sounding tight as his eggs under her skimming touch. "My lovely little minx, hot on my legs and distant as the Moon!" He curled his fingers, the muscles in his arms straining into sharp relief beneath his skin so that Beryl's mouth fairly watered.

"But think of how you can bounce me," she said, sliding soft skin up and down his hard prick, watching his cheeks stretch in a tormented smile.

"Oh, I can't bear it, to look on all your prettinesses and not touch." He sounded so plaintive that worry smote her heart, but then she felt his legs tense and shift as he planted his feet, then she laughed and let go to grab hold of his love-handles in readiness. "I suppose I must put it all into the jigging," Bofur sighed cheerily, and Beryl laughed right up until he bounced her indeed and she squeaked and clung.

Her breath rushed out and a wildness rushed in. "It'll take more than that to unseat me," she told him as she rocked herself forward, dragging her cunny the length of his cock, watching his lip quiver and his eyes shine. She trembled too, falling rather ungracefully upon his belly, but Bofur's spellbound lack of notice made her not care, and when she leaned in to kiss him he sucked her lip into his mouth as if he could hold her so.

She wriggled against him, pressing her breasts and chest and belly to his firm hairy warmth, then pulled away just to tease, to watch heat flare in his dark eyes. "Come back here with that," Bofur growled, sending a thrill through Beryl's blood, his eyes skimming her body like hands. "We're hardly half done."

"We've barely started," she agreed, tracing her curves with her own hands, thrilling as he groaned through clenched teeth. "Make me peak twice and I'll untie a hand." Digging her heels into the bed, she shifted back, pushing up on his hips where she wouldn't hurt him, and this wasn't the easiest without him to help lift her, but oh, she could taste how grand it would be. "Come on then, Bofur." Almost, almost, _there_. "Tup me." And she pushed down onto him.

As he complied Bofur growled, his eyebrows crumpling together, his expression wild and fierce, and Beryl grabbed hold with knees and hands and rode him at a flying gallop. All of her bounced with his thrusts, hair and breasts and belly, her bottom thumping against his thighs, and she could feel him so very deep, almost to the back of her throat. It was just as glorious as she'd thought and more, and she tossed her head back and shrieked for sheer delight as her first peak caught her up with shocking swiftness, flame streaking across the linings of her eyelids.

"Beryl!" Bofur cried, and a mouthful of sharp-edged Dwarvish that sounded thrillingly improper, and oh if she could remember any curses she'd shout them back! But when she got her eyes open he was straining indeed, his brow creased in desperation as his wrists twisted in their bonds. "Beryl, Beryl, let me touch you," Bofur gasped even as his hips kept rolling, and she didn't know what to do first, to reach forward and let him up, to try to get him to still.

Then Bofur answered the question as he tore one wrist free with a great snarl of rending cloth, and as Beryl gaped in astonishment and clutched his sides to steady herself, he wrenched the other hand free, his eyes never leaving hers, and shoved himself upright, grasping her hip, wrapping his sturdy arm across her back. "Oh!" was all she could cry out as Bofur tipped them backwards, his hair flying around her face as he crushed their mouths together, his broad hand hitching her thigh up as he drove into her with a force she'd never felt, immense beyond niceties of pleasure or pain. Beryl gripped Bofur's shoulders and hung on even as her eyes rolled back, and her whole body shuddered around him in long pulsations of pleasure that hardly ebbed between swells, as he surged unstoppably as a rockslide and pressed her to his chest so tightly it felt he'd never let go, as if she could hope he never would.

His peak shook her all through, setting off hers once more, delight bearing her up until they fell in a stunned heap. Their kiss had to break so they could trade breaths as they quivered together, fetched up on the bed's end. Beryl found her cheek upon Bofur's hair and his arms still tight around her, his prick still snugged within her as twinned deep breaths pressed their bellies together. "Oh," she murmured, her heart brimful and her cunny radiantly tender, "that was splendid."

"Quite astounding," Bofur agreed, lifting his hand to Beryl's cheek just as she opened her eyes.

Just in time for her to see the ragged knot of cloth pulled taut around his wrist, and the chafed redness beneath. "Oh Bofur!" she cried in dismay, squirming free of his hold and shoving herself up to sit though her head spun, "I'm ever so sorry --"

"For that grand tumble?" Bofur merely favored her with one of his warm crinkly-eyed smiles as she tore at the knot with teeth and fingernails. "If you ask me it was just lovely."

Rolling her eyes, Beryl tugged until she'd pulled the knot loose. "It was until I gave you rope burns," she retorted, sharp with remorse as she started on his other wrist. "If you don't need your hands anymore I still fancy them on occasion."

"Beryl." Bofur stopped her with that hand on her cheek, with his voice soft and low. "You were right, my lass, and didn't we have a grand time? Here you are, warm and unbruised, eyes sparkling like aventurine as you give me the rough side of your little pink tongue." She blushed under his hand, and he gently prevented her from dropping her chin or her gaze, holding her with his warm dark eyes. "I should have known you're made of stern stuff despite your lovely cushioning."

He pinched her side, and she swatted him, laughing helplessly. "I know you're made to endure, my dearling Dwarf, but still." She reached for the hand still tightly bound, and kissed its palm. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No more than a love-bite." Bofur dug his fingers beneath the shredded cloth, his only wince a crease across his brow, and yanked. The knot tore free, and he gathered the two handfuls of cloth and threw them off the bed's end. "Next time you'll tie me up with something proper."

"Next time?" Bofur nodded as he gently led Beryl up the bed. "But you said you longed to touch me--"

"And how sweet it was when I finally could." As they lay down he kissed her shoulder, his unbound hair brushing her throat and arm like a thousand little kisses. "But unless you'd go again, right now I think I could sleep." He kissed her cheek, yawning into it, his mustache flicking her skin.

"I know I could." Bofur closed his eyes, still smiling, and soon began to snore gently, but despite her satisfied languor Beryl lay awake awhile. Her head beside Bofur's on the pillow, she thought long thoughts of the King they had followed and lost, of whether they might have a next time, of all the reasons they might not. She asked herself unanswerable questions till the lamp guttered and went out, and only then could she doze off to her own sleep.

 

* * *** * *

_… under cloud and under star_   
_Yet feet that wandering have gone_   
_Turn at last to home afar…_

Beryl woke with a fragment of song in her mind and Bofur's even breathing beneath her head. She opened her eyes to a sunny morning and Bofur cheerfully lying awake so she could continue using his side for her pillow. Realizing that, she pushed herself up as she rubbed her eyes, so he could get up if he needed. "Good morning."

"Lovely, it is." He waggled his eyebrows as he said it, and she obligingly blushed. But even as she smiled at him she noticed that he hadn't moved, and that the questions that had paced round her head the night before now lay curled and slumbering but still present.

It seemed time for answers. "Last night I meant to tell you…" She took a steadying breath, savoring the scent of his skin, and went on. "Gandalf is leaving soon, and I'm to travel with him." Her heart speeded like a cart rolling downhill, but she kept her voice calm, kept her eyes on Bofur's, kept going. "Bombur said you three might be going soon, too." He nodded, sliding his hand forwards so their fingertips touched, and just that little connection heartened her. "If you are, I would quite like to see the Blue Mountains," she said, brashly inviting herself along. "and after Bifur and Bombur are settled, might you like to visit Hobbitton again? For a little while?"

There, it was finally asked, and Beryl bit her tongue gently against further words. Bofur closed his hand over hers, his smile spreading till it was bright and wide and more than she could ever have hoped, and the gladdening answer he gave her was, "My lass, I thought you'd never ask."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> Fem!Bilbo/Bofur rough sex, kink exploration  
> When Bofur and fem!Bilbo fell in love, Bilbo thought their sex life would be rough and wild because of what she had previously heard about dwarves. Bilbo is surprised and a little disappointed when Bofur is revealed to be the gentlest lover she could ever imagine. It’s lovely and all, but Bilbo is frustrated and craving something wicked. Turns out, Bofur has been craving the same thing. Cue ending the frustration with bouts of rough sex and some kink exploration (nothing specific in mind, I'll leave that up to the writer).
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5346.html?thread=10844130#t10844130


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